


facing fear

by izabellwit



Series: in the aftermath [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Apologies, Banter, Bonding, Epic Friendship, Families of Choice, Forgiveness, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Past Character Death, Post-Volume 7 (RWBY), Redemption, Reunions, Speculation, Spoilers: Volume 7 (RWBY), Team as Family, Trust Issues, Volume 7 (RWBY), in which tired wizard man and farm boy face their problems, take place post-finale, there are a lot of problems, this is my excuse to write ALL THE BANTER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izabellwit/pseuds/izabellwit
Summary: Oscar finally finds his way back to the group, but Oz's return isn't the only problem. Things are looking bleak, but they'll get through it together. ...Hopefully.(or: in which Oscar is both Wise and Guilty, Oz reflects on life choices, and the team as a whole figures out where they stand. Saving the world isn't about being brave, in the end— it's about making sure you don't face the fear alone.)
Relationships: Jaune Arc & Oscar Pine & Lie Ren & Nora Valkyrie, Oscar Pine & Everyone, Oscar Pine & Ruby Rose, Ozpin & Oscar Pine, Ozpin & Ruby Rose, Ozpin & Team RWBY, Qrow Branwen & Ozpin
Series: in the aftermath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636153
Comments: 35
Kudos: 276





	facing fear

**Author's Note:**

> This got so much longer than I planned, oh gosh. And I'm not complaining, I'm actually really happy with this!! But GOD, why are there so many characters!!????? I understand why RWBY keeps splitting up the teams now. I understand it SO WELL. Oh my god, guys, stop standing together, I can't write you all in the same place. Holy shit. 
> 
> This fic is kind of an unofficial sequel to this story [here,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757461) but I think it can stand alone pretty well. All you need to know is Oscar staged a prison break for Qrow and Robyn, and now they're meeting up with the rest of the group. 
> 
> This may be the last installment for this little series, but rest assured I have a lot more RWBY fics in the works. Stay tuned!! And I really hope you guys enjoy this, ahaha. I only got it done so fast because of you guys and your amazing support!! Every single comment was like Christmas come early. Thank you all SO MUCH. 
> 
> Final note: Again, Ozpin/Ozma is referred to as Oz, because reasons. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Oscar._

He wakes to the sound of rattling, distant but rhythmic, a constant knocking on the wall beside his head. The ground hums beneath his hand, the soft shake of an airship caught in stronger winds. His head is pillowed in the crook of his arms, leaning against the scratchy plush of padded seats. There’s a seatbelt clenched white-knuckled in one hand, a meager attempt at staying anchored. His eyelids flutter and then squeeze shut. 

_Oscar, wake up._

Oscar blinks eyes half-crusted closed from sleep, and a large yawn cracks his jaw. He squints into the sudden glare of light, feeling a shadow of a headache pulse behind his temple. He rubs hard at his face, and sits up against the wall, exhaling into his hands. 

_You’ve had a trying day, and though I wish you could rest longer... we will be needed soon. Best to have a clear head for it all._

Oscar sighs into his palms. 

_Oscar?_

“I hear you,” Oscar mumbles, and yawns again. Oz is right, as much as Oscar wishes otherwise—he doesn’t want to face _anything_ while still half-asleep. He pries open his eyes, squinting against the glare of light through the airship windows. Qrow and Robyn are up by the controls, talking in low voices; neither seem to have noticed he’s awake yet. Oscar stares out the window, seeing white, and slowly frowns. “Where…?”

 _Out in the tundra, I think. Somewhere. I don’t recognize the area._ Something exasperated enters Oz’s voice. _There was some debate on where to go, originally, though an accord seems to have… finally… been reached._

Oscar pauses, and slides a considering look at Qrow and Robyn, who not only look exhausted but are also starting to bare teeth. It wouldn’t be out of the picture, he realizes, for them to possibly start strangling the other. “They’ve been arguing since I fell asleep, haven’t they.”

 _Tensions are high. Tempers are higher. It has been a tiring day for everyone involved, and picking a fight is a common if unhealthy response to such events._ A pause. _So… yes._

Oscar sighs and sits up properly, throwing his legs over the side. His feet scuff the ground; the conversation up front cuts short, and Qrow and Robyn finally look back at him. Qrow is tense. Oscar waves hello.

Something about the gesture makes Qrow relax—he rolls his eyes, the tension in his expression fading. His smile is a hollow echo of what it should be, but it’s a far cry better than how he looked when Oscar first dropped off to sleep. 

“Still with us, kid?” Qrow asks, and rests back on his heels. “You were out for a bit.”

“Think so.” Oscar rolls his shoulder and stretches out his arms, and when that results in little more than a slight ache, he links his fingers, tilting tentatively to stretch his side. 

_Ah, I don’t know if I would recommend—_

Oscar has already dropped his arms, wincing. “Ow.” Qrow snorts at him. Oscar ignores him, and pokes at the bruise; the injury pulls a bit, a steady ache. It’s a definite hindrance, but it’s no longer the blinding pain from before. Actually, in comparison to before, it barely hurts at all. Aura-healing is so weird. “How long was I asleep?”

“Ah, that’s…” 

Oz speaks where Qrow hesitates, his tone measured, almost calming. _You slept for a few hours. Two, perhaps. We are—_

It’s too late. Oscar is already panicking. “A few _hours?_ ” He turns to Qrow, incredulous, fear locking his throat. “Where—why—is Mantle—?”

“Mantle’s holding on,” Robyn says from up front, still in the pilot’s seat. She glances back at him. “My Huntresses are… trying to hold the fort, from the sounds of things. So far, we’re managing to stay alive.” She turns back to face the front, but not before Oscar can see her scowl. “But we’re running out of time. Qrow, if this meeting doesn’t work out—”

“I told you, the kids are good fighters. Having them will help. And we can’t go back to Mantle yet, we’ll be caught in a heartbeat, you saw the patrols—”

Oscar ignores their conversation for later, turning away to hiss under his breath. “Why—”

 _The tundra isn’t exactly close. It was bound to take some time to get to a good meeting point. And…_ Oz hesitates. 

Oscar frowns. “What?”

Oz doesn’t say anything. Oscar’s hands curl over his knees, bunching up the fabric. “Oz. What aren’t you telling me?” He can’t quite keep his voice steady, or calm. He’s had a long day, and he isn’t in the mood for this, for the lies, for just— _this—_

 _It’s not that,_ Oz says, quickly, sounding a little guilty. _It is just… I did not want to alarm you._ He pauses, again, then seems to rally himself. _Ironwood… is taking a more active role in tracking down the others. We briefly came within range of his ships. Miss Hill took us a longer route in the hopes to avoid being followed or found, but…_

Oscar is still. For a moment his chest feels very tight. “O-oh.”

 _I… I won’t lie to you._ Oz’s voice steadies. _With luck, Miss Hill’s tactics have diverted the General’s forces from our trail. For now. But Ironwood is—very good at what he does. I just… I would caution you to… be prepared. Just in case. It may be that we will face him again sooner than either of us would like._

“I see.” Oscar stares at his hands, closing his eyes. “Right. Right, okay.” He shakes his head. “I—I will.”

_I’m sorry. I wasn’t intending on keeping it from you, I just didn’t want to give you bad news so soon…_

“It’s fine. I overreacted. You already said…” Oscar shakes his head. He’s tired, but that’s no excuse. Oz has tried to do things Oscar’s way—to build trust, to _try._ It is only fair that Oscar returns the favor. “I—”

Before Oscar can speak, Robyn’s voice rises again, loud enough to cut off even their more mental conversation. “I’m just saying, a couple of kids isn’t going to do much against—”

Oscar stares over at them. They’re _still_ arguing about that?

Oz’s sigh is palpable.

Oscar straightens in his seat, frowning slightly in Robyn and Qrow’s direction. “Ruby and the others want to help Mantle, too,” he says, cutting Robyn off. He pushes to his feet and walks over. “I do, too. That hasn’t changed.” Robyn’s eyes flash to him; Oscar meets her gaze evenly and shakes his head, almost pleading. “But there’s too much happening right now. I know it’s hard, but if we try and face Salem—or Ironwood—while divided, it won’t end well for anyone. _Especially_ Mantle. We have to stand together. And for that… well.” He offers a smile. “Then we have to actually _be_ together. You know, in the same place. And the others… you shouldn’t underestimate them. They’ve been learning a lot. We all have. At least give us a chance, first, before shooting us down?”

Both Qrow and Robyn are staring at him. Um.

There is a strange warmth in his chest, a faint pride that doesn’t belong to Oscar. _You’ve gotten wise_. 

“Um,” Oscar stutters. “That’s—just what I think, though, you don’t—”

Robyn shakes her head, already turning away. “Whatever, kid.” But she doesn’t snap again, and her expression as she stares out the windshield is thoughtful. Qrow gives Oscar a thankful nod, something odd in the set of his face, a softer edge to his smile. 

“Not bad,” he says.

Oscar smiles back weakly, and then pivots away back to the seats. Nope, nope, nope, not doing that again. “I’m not wise,” he mutters to Oz, sinking back against the seats, desperate to ignore Qrow’s searching gaze. “That’s _you_ , remember?”

 _Not all of it. Trust is_ **_your_ ** _philosophy, Oscar._ There is something wistful in Oz’s voice. _I may have said similar things, but… I am not sure now if I ever believed in it as you do. Perhaps Miss Rose was right when she said I had no faith in my allies._

Oscar blinks at that, his embarrassment abruptly side-tracked by a new train of thought. “I don’t know if faith…” he starts, slowly, and then shakes his head. “You always spoke like we would be facing Salem together,” he settles on, finally. “Or… that's what it sounded like, anyway. But—you always imagined facing her alone, didn’t you?”

Oz goes quiet. It says… a lot.

Oscar sits up, shoulder stiff, frowning at the air. “You never faced her alone,” he says, abruptly sharp. “I would have been there too, even if all—that—didn’t happen. And the others, the ones before me. The other… incarnations. They were there too, whenever you fought her.” A sudden thought strikes him. He goes quiet, an old fear sneaking through him. He has never quite understood the soul merge—if it will overwrite him, what it means for him. He was never brave enough to ask… and then, Oz hadn’t been there to answer. Oscar bites his lip. “W-weren’t they?”

 _I… That’s…_ He gets the sense of Oz shaking his head, but given he isn’t in control, all it does is make Oscar dizzy, like his head is spinning. Or maybe that is just Oz, his emotions like a spiral before he tamps them down, hard. 

_No. No, you’re… you’re right._

His voice softens. _You’re quite right._

Oscar starts to respond, but just then the airship rocks hard and he snaps his mouth shut, almost biting his tongue. He grips at the seatbelts. “What—”

“Hold on tight. We’re going down.”

Oscar looks out the window and blinks fast. The ground is slowly rushing up to meet them, an endless expanse of white tundra and dark rock.

 _…As I said when waking you._ Oz almost seems to take a breath, and when he speaks again his voice is as sharp and cheerful as ever, as though the sudden hush that had befallen him never happened. _We are landing._ Gentler: _We are here._

Oscar straightens up at once, ignoring the twinge at his side in favor of staring out into the snow. He turns to Qrow. “The others—”

“Already here. Ruby knew the way.” Qrow gives a sudden grin. “Interesting story, actually. These cliffs are where Robyn first ambushed us. Tried to rob the truck, steal all the supplies. Fun times.” His smile falters, as though the memory has hit a snag, and Qrow looks away, a little more subdued. “Vague meeting place, but we figured it was best we avoid any—obvious locations.”

Oh. Ironwood. Right. 

Oscar stands from the seats, balancing with one hand on the wall, and watches the door with rapt attention. Robyn sets the airship to land with one last lurch, and Oscar makes for the door—then pauses, his hand halfway outstretched for the handle. He can feel Qrow’s eyes on him. He doesn’t move. His hand slowly falls back to his side.

_Oscar._

“They’ll be upset,” Oscar says, quietly. He considers the door. “And…” he bites his lip. “And you’re _tired_.” He can feel it. Like the lingering ache in his side, Oz’s exhaustion is a creeping, constant thing, a weighted cloak on their shoulders.

_I… I could not avoid these confrontations even if I wanted to, Oscar. You could say I have delayed them for far too long as-is._

“That doesn’t mean you have to do this now.”

Oz is silent for a long moment. Then he sighs. _I have… run from my problems for quite a while now, I think. Thank you. Your offer is kindly meant, and I—I appreciate that more than you know. But perhaps it is best to simply… get it over with, as you students would say. Besides._ A wry note enters his voice. _Glynda would be_ **_terribly_ ** _disappointed in me._

The most Oscar knows about Glynda Goodwitch is through hearsay, but he can admit that sounds accurate. Still. “She’s… not even here?”

_And yet, her presence is always felt._

Well, Oscar thinks. If Oz is feeling up for his annoying sense of humor, he _must_ be feeling better. 

Oz is silent on this. But for a moment, brief and bright, he almost seems to want to smile.

Oscar shakes his head and squares his shoulders, looking back—Qrow tilts his head, eyes unreadable, and nods at him; Robyn ignores them both—then turns to the airship door, and finally pushes at the airlock, sliding it open to the wind. He steps out, smiling, ready to see his friends—

The cold just about smacks him across the face. Oscar goes back inside. 

Oz sighs, but Oscar can _tell_ he’s laughing. On the inside, maybe, but still laughing. **_Aura,_ ** _Oscar. The cold here could kill us._

“Right, right,” Oscar mutters, and takes a breath, focusing. Oz leans in, closer, nudging his control; his aura flickers up, unsteady, then settles and stays strong under Oz’s guidance.

Oscar frowns, momentarily bothered. He’d thought he was getting better at that.

_You are. However, one two-hour nap doesn’t change the fact you’re exhausted. It is no fault of yours, and every bit the fault of our circumstances._

Oscar hums, accepting that, and steps out onto the ramp. This time the cold is just that—cold, not deadly. He breathes in deep and squints across the snow, shading his eyes against the sunlight, almost speckled through the clouds. The light turns all the tundra into a white glare, and it takes him a moment to spot it—the second airship, settled in the shadow of the other cliff, the door already open.

He steps forward, footsteps crunching in the snow, and across the field, a pink blur breaks from the other ship like a shot. 

“CUTE! BOY! _OZ!”_

_Oh, no._

Oscar blanches.

 **_Please_ ** _get her to stop calling us that._

Oscar doesn’t answer, because that is about when Nora tackles him into the snow. 

It’s almost routine, by now. Oscar falls back, and there is an instant when the whole world slips and tumbles and turns upside down, a kaleidoscope of colors, and then he falls hard onto his back in the snow, Nora beside him and all the breath gone from his lungs. Familiar as breathing.

Except _not,_ apparently—for just then a sharp pain flares from his side, because of _course_ it does, and Oscar sits bolt upright and just barely bites back a yelp of pain.

Nora shoots up at once, her hair wild, expression elated. “You’re alive!” Her face immediately darkens. “Wait. You’re hurt? Was it Neo?” Her eyes flare. Her hands clench into fists. She snarls. “I’m going to break _every bone in her body.”_

_Well. Good to know Miss Valkyrie hasn’t lost her fire, I suppose._

Oscar winces, laughs, and weakly pushes himself in a more comfortable position, sitting cross-legged in the snow. “Hi, Nora.” He avoids answering the other question. He knows he’ll have to tell them about Ironwood eventually, but he doesn’t want to sully this moment. Doesn’t really want to think about it himself. “Good to see you.”

Nora blinks, her sudden burst of fury fading from her face, and then scowls at him. There are tears in her eyes. It’s like a punch to the gut. “You scared us!” she says hotly, reaching out to grip his shoulders. “Don’t ever do that again! Where _were_ you?”

“I…”

“Oscar! Uncle Qrow!”

A burst of red scatters across the snow, petals flying. Ruby appears, pale in the face but smiling, and when she sees Oscar her shoulders slump, relief plain to see. Her smile snaps bright as sunshine. “Oh, thank god, you guys are okay!”

Qrow has exited the airship to by now, Robyn trailing behind him. For all of the exhaustion in Qrow’s face, for Ruby he still manages a smile. “Heya, kid. I said we were fine. Did you doubt me?”

“Never!” Ruby says, and barrels into him for a hug. Qrow catches her, stumbling, and laughs. It is ragged but real. For the first time, his smile seems to reach his eyes. He hugs Ruby back hard, rustling his hand through his niece’s hair. 

Oscar looks away, and brushes a hand over his chest, near his heart. It feels tight. Strangled. He knows the emotion isn’t his. 

“Are you…?”

_Fine._

Oscar frowns, then pauses—Nora is looking at him, her brow furrowed. She blinks, as if coming to a realization. “…Hey, are you—?”

“Oscar!”

They both turn. 

The others have exited their airship; Jaune is already rushing over, Ren on his heels, Weiss and Yang and Blake just behind them. Maria walks out with a grim sort of smile and look of relief at the sight of them. Pietro follows too, and with him is— Penny? 

_She went with them?_ Oz seems to share in Oscar’s confusion. _I would have assumed she’d stay to protect Mantle. What forced her to go?_

They don’t have much time to ponder the mystery. Jaune finally reaches them, and he nearly trips in his haste to Oscar’s side, sliding awkwardly to his knees. Nora draws back her hand just as Jaune reaches out—he takes Oscar by the shoulders and shakes him, his expression twisted up with an emotion so complicated Oscar can’t name it for the life of him, except for the fact the sight of it feels like being hollowed out by a rusty spoon. Even Ren seems uncharacteristically dead-eyed, and his exhale when he kneels by Jaune is shaky and suspiciously wet. 

“Oscar!” Jaune repeats, and shakes him again. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“N-not badly,” Oscar manages, stunned small by their reactions. He looks over them. All of team JNR is kneeling by him in the snow, the stress stark and clear on their faces. Oscar bites his lip. “Jaune—”

“Oh, thank god.” Jaune wraps Oscar in a bruising hug, and then pulls away, shaking his head. His eyes are wild. “You can’t—vanish—” His throat works on the words. “Don’t _do_ that!”

Oscar looks down, shame a knot in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I meant to come back right away, I just—” 

“Why did you run off?” Ren asks, quietly, and though his voice is soft it still makes Oscar wince. Nora is glaring at the ground, Jaune still holding onto Oscar’s shoulders as if to make sure he’s there. Behind them, Weiss, Yang, and Blake slow to a stop, expressions solemn but relieved. “Where did you go?” 

Left unsaid, but heard clear as day: _And why didn’t you take us with you?_

Ren doesn’t say it. None of them do. But Oscar hears it anyway, and his head ducks lower, his gut twisted all into knots.

_Oh, Oscar._

He ignores Oz best he can, lifting his head with a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” he says again, sincerely. His lips twist. “I, I wanted to—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head, hard. “I had to try,” he says at last, voice cracking. “I thought I could—I had to _try.”_ The emotion drains from him. “But Ironwood, he… didn’t want to listen, I guess.”

A silence descends. Blake steps closer, horrified realization in her face. “You went to talk with Ironwood?”

Oscar keeps his head down. Something burns behind his eyes, and he grits his teeth, determined to keep the tears at bay. He is _not_ going to cry over this, damn it. Not again.

He can feel Oz there, as if beside him. He doesn’t take control. But a distance casts over him, a barrier between Oscar and the thing choking his insides, and slowly the urge to cry fades away. Oscar breathes. The tremble in his hands calms. 

“He didn’t want to listen,” Oscar repeats, and this time the words don’t shake.

Ruby draws away from Qrow, towards them. “He… Ironwood, did he—”

Oscar shakes his head once. 

Another silence. 

“Oh,” Weiss says, dully. Beside her Yang hisses through her teeth, eyes bright, her aura a flare of golden anger. 

“That—!”

But Jaune is shaking his head, and Oscar focuses on him instead of the others. “You could have told us!” Jaune snaps, his voice rising. “We could have gone with you! Going alone was—”

“I didn’t want him to think I was there for a fight.” Oscar reaches up and grips Jaune’s wrist, grounding, warm. He squeezes once. “Which, u-um, didn’t work out as intended, but—at the time. I didn’t—” He stops, unable to explain it. “I just… I had to do it alone.”

Ren’s voice is very quiet. “Because of Oz?”

Oscar freezes. His breath catches two-fold—Oscar’s surprise, Oz’s flinch. There’s no way Ren can know. It doesn’t stop his words from hitting true.

Oscar clears his throat, stuttering over the words. “Yes.” He swallows. “Because of Oz.”

It had been sound logic, at the time. Even if Ironwood didn’t want Oscar’s opinion, he’d always read _Oz_ into the things Oscar said anyway. It’d been worth a shot, Oscar had thought. It’d been worth a try. 

In the back of his mind, Oz is silent. 

There’s another stretch of quiet, after that, the words sinking in for everyone. Nora is the first to move, crossing her arms and sniffing, nose pointed up to the air. “That’s stupid,” she declares. Then she slumps, the drama fading, something exhausted in her eyes. Quieter, she repeats, “That’s… really stupid.”

Oscar ducks his head. “I…”

“Well, no helping it now.” Oscar and the others look up. Maria has come over, and she crosses her hands over her walking stick, cybernetic eyes squinting at him. “What’s done is done,” she says crisply, once all eyes are on her. “Can’t go back! What’s important is that you’re here now.” She tilts her head forward. “And you aren’t going to do something so foolish again, now are you?”

Oscar gives her a weak smile, and Nora punches his arm. “At least not alone!”

Oz is little more than a whisper, but his voice rings clear. _They’re right, you know._

Oscar shakes his head, but his smile grows against his will. “Okay,” he agrees. He bites his lip and looks back to Jaune. “I… I really am sorry.”

Jaune slumps. “I… can’t say it’s fine, but—” He finally pulls away, inhaling deep and shaky, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Oscar.” 

“Wait,” Yang says, from behind them. “Oscar, if you went to see Ironwood—and he was, _y’know_ —then how’d you escape from Atlas?”

_…Ah._

“Um.”

_Best to tell them, I think._

Easy for him to say, Oscar thinks but doesn’t say, and laughs with a wince, bracing himself. “Uh, well—”

Nora sits up straight, as though struck. “Wait.” Her head snaps to Oscar. “You are hurt, though!”

Aaaaaaaahhhhh. 

Oz has sounded slightly stressed ever since the team arrived, but for a moment he sounds almost like he wants to laugh. _You can’t avoid the fuss forever, Oscar._

Sure, but he could try. Oscar sighs, and rubs his hands down his face. “It’s fine!” he insists. “I feel much better now—”

Footsteps crunch in the snow. “Sugar-coating it isn’t going to help anyone, kid.” Qrow. He turns to the group and continues. “Apparently, ol’ Ironwood decided to shoot Oscar off a cliff for the crime of having an opinion.” He nudges Nora with his foot. “So no tackling him for a bit, yeah?”

Nora blanches. “Oh, I didn’t mean to—!”

“—a _cliff?”_ Jaune says, hysterically. 

_“Shot!?”_

Weiss covers her mouth. She doesn’t say anything. But beside her, Yang’s eyes have gone wide. “Wait.” She turns to Oscar. “How did you—?”

Oz has gone silent and distant in his head. Oscar meets her eyes squarely and then pulls his gaze away to look at everyone else, too. “Well…” He hesitates, unsure of how to word it, and then sets his shoulders. “It helps that I wasn’t alone.”

The quiet stretches. The wind howls over the empty tundra.

“Ozpin?” Ren says, hushed.

Oscar nods. 

“…Oh.”

No one says anything. Glances are exchanged. Oscar watches them, taking in their expressions, and pulls his legs into a tighter criss-cross, resting his hands on his ankles. “…Do you want to talk to him?”

Yang straightens like a snap, looking startled. Beside her, Blake blinks fast. “He’s—still there?”

“Yep,” Qrow says from behind. He’s leaning against the airship, his arms crossed. “Says he’s back for good, actually.”

Another wary glance exchanged. No one seems to know what to think.

“…Let’s do that later.” Jaune draws up his shoulders, ignoring the way everyone immediately turns to stare at him. There is something neutral in his voice, a careful calm, like he’s sounding out the words as he says them. “I mean. I’m guessing he came back to… help, or whatever, right? And it sounds like he—helped you with Ironwood, too, so—” Jaune exhales hard. His expression firms. “Later.” He pauses, then gives Oscar a hesitant look. “…Is that okay?”

Oz is silent, but his shock is a quiet buzz in the back of Oscar’s mind. Apparently, he’d assumed Jaune would be the angriest of them.

Oscar says nothing, but there’s a warmth in him, a sort of pride, because Jaune is many things and a great leader is one of them. He smiles back. “Later,” he agrees. “Thanks.”

Yang opens her mouth as if to speak, but Ruby shoots up, smiling again, clapping her hands. “Okay!” she crows. “Then, if we’re just going to be hashing stuff out—it’s freezing out here. Anyone want to go inside?”

Things blur, after that. In the end they all cram inside the team’s stolen airship, if only for the size, and the groups drift apart. The adults—Maria, Pietro, Robyn, and Qrow—cluster by the airship controls, talking out ideas and possible allies in low voices, trying to contact any Happy Huntresses within range. Team RWBY lingers by the door and then heads back outside with Penny, who seems slightly shaken by something. Oscar and Oz are both curious, but Oscar refrains from following—Nora tugs at his arm as she passes, she and Jaune and Ren settling down near the back of the ship, and Oscar takes the silent cue and settles in beside them.

They’re quiet, for a bit. Just sitting. Nora pulls up her knees, half-hiding her face; Ren leans back his head against the wall like he’s having trouble staying upright. Jaune’s eyes are closed. Oscar sits beside and between them all, cross-legged and looking at the ground. They must make a sorry sight, he thinks, but he doesn’t really care. He’s just glad for the moment—for the pause, for the chance to breathe, and to know that for now, at least, they are safe.

_You fit in well with them._

The whisper is quiet, a strange mix of pride and fondness and regret. Oscar smiles sideways, and when Nora nudges his arm in question, he shrugs. 

“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just… glad I managed to get back.”

“Us, too.” Ren sounds subdued, and there’s an exhaustion in his eyes, a haggardness to his face that worries Oscar to see it. Still: he offers Oscar a smile, and a little more life enters his eyes. “It sounds like…” The smile fades. “We almost lost you there.”

“It was kind of close.” Oscar brings a hand to his side, glances across at Jaune, and falters at the look on his face. He flinches, and half-turns away. “I…”

Oz is there, suddenly, like a brief touch at his shoulder. _It is not you, I suspect,_ he says, careful, like he is not sure how much he should say. _I do not know how much they may have told you, but their lost teammate…_

Pyrrha Nikos. Yes. Oscar remembers. He has heard of her in bits and pieces; understood her in all the things the others can’t say. She was beloved—and now she is gone.

 _She faced a battle she… should never have had to face. I was not there, for that. I was—already gone. But from my understanding of events… when she left to fight, she did not take her team with her._ Oz’s voice is heavy with regret, a muted guilt. _And then she did not come back._

Oh.

Oscar holds himself very still, taking that in, then squeezes his eyes shut. _Oh._ He hadn’t known that bit. He lifts his head, throat tight. “I really am sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for it to go so far. And I really didn’t expect to fight.” 

“But did you think of a way you could get out?” Nora asks, muted.

Oscar doesn’t move. Because... he hadn’t, had he? Ironwood had been in the vault. If Oscar had had to run, he couldn’t have gotten out easily. But at the same— “I kind of thought he would just arrest me?” Which. Would still be terrible, admittedly, but there would be way less shooting involved. 

Nora’s lips thin. Ren straightens at that. “Yes,” he says. “About that. Are you—are you okay?”

“I… I’m not sure what—?”

“We’re probably going to run into him again,” Jaune says, still staring at the floor. “Sooner, rather than later… I mean, we are using Atlas tech.” His lips twitch, but the smile is quick to fade, and Jaune finally looks up to meet Oscar’s eyes. “I mean, he— _shot_ you. That’s… not easy. And none of us thought he would, so hey, it’s a shock, too. So…”

Oscar stares at him, then drops his gaze, mind whirling. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes to mind, and Oz is silent. “I don’t know,” Oscar says, at last. “It doesn’t feel real, in a weird way. Even though it happened.” His hand brushes his side. “I don’t know.” 

Nora scoots closer to him, and squeezes him briefly to her side. “That’s fine,” she says. “Just… we wanted to ask, I guess. And maybe prepare you? Because being taken off guard by seeing someone who... _well,_ , and not being prepared for it? Sucks!” She shakes him lightly. “But that’s a later problem. For now… we made it.” She looks across to Ren and Jaune, something firming in her voice. “We made it. We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Ren echoes, softly. 

Jaune puts a hand to his face, shaking, but when he pulls his hand away, his eyes are dry and he is smiling. “You said it, Nora.”

She smiles, a sideways thing, not up to her usual grin but still brighter than before. She squeezes at Oscar’s shoulder again. “So,” Nora says. “What about… uh, everything else?”

Oscar hums. “Are you talking about Oz?”

Jaune and Ren glance at each other. “Guess so,” Jaune says. “I mean, we know… how you felt about it all. And, well. It’s been a while. So having him back…”

“Are you okay?” Ren offers, and this time they are all looking at Oscar, waiting for the answer.

It’s a useless question, perhaps—even if Oscar wasn’t okay with it, what could be done? But strangely this only makes it mean more. It does nothing, in the end. There is no way they could help. But that they ask, that they want to know, that they worry—he can’t help but smile. He can’t help but be relieved. 

And he thinks—if there was a part of him that did hate it, a part of him that was angry—strangely, oddly, he can almost feel it fade. Just having that question. Just knowing that he could say no. 

_Oscar, I…_

“It’s okay,” Oscar says, to all of them. “It really is. I…” He looks at his hands. “I meant what I said,” he reminds Oz. “I did miss you, I think. And more than that…” He meets the eyes of his team. “It’s different,” he says. “It’s easier. More… e-equal, maybe?” He frowns. “No, wait, that’s not the right word… it’s not like it wasn’t equal before, but—”

“I get it.” Jaune searches his face, as if looking for something, and then nods. “Okay. If you’re sure.” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“Good!” Nora half-hugs him one last time, and then pulls her arm back to nudge him with her elbow. “That was great. Look at us, talking about our problems. Like adults!” She glances at the front of the airship, where most of the adults in question are talking. Their squabbling is quiet. They are still very clearly squabbling. “Or unlike the adults, apparently.” 

Oscar snorts, ducking his head with a grin. The tension has eased, the air lighter. They exchange weak grins, and while it’s still not the same—not as easy, or as bright as it should be—there is a warmth there too, a quiet exhale, an acceptance.

Oscar leans against Nora and closes his eyes, taking a moment to bask in the silence. He can hear the adults, still messing with the controls up front, and the quiet howl of the wind outside. The airship is warm, almost uncomfortably so, but for the moment Oscar ignores his aches and pains and thinks instead on just being. 

_…They are a remarkable lot._

He smiles. His response is barely a murmur under his breath. “Knew that already.”

 _I can tell._ Oz’s tone turns reflective. _They have grown up greatly, since their time at Beacon. Though their circumstances were not the best… I am happy to see they have held together, despite it._

“Mm.”

_…You trust them a great deal, don’t you._

Oscar opens his eyes. “Yes.”

He waits, but Oz says nothing else; he seems quiet, contemplative, deep in thoughts that Oscar is not privy to. Oscar shrugs and lets the other stew, sitting up to stretch out his legs. The airship really is far too warm. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air.”

“Okay.” Jaune stands too. “Your aura good to face the cold?”

 _We could use with some support,_ Oz offers.

Oscar sighs. “I’m working on it…”

Jaune smiles more genuinely at this, and claps a hand to Oscar’s shoulder. “I know,” he says warmly. His hand flickers silver; Oscar’s aura brightens, a burning green. The chill fades—and so too, does the ache at his side, the last of the bruise. Oscar blinks, and puts a hand against the injury, marveling at the way the pain almost seems to fall away.

Jaune just shakes his head at him. “Don’t wander too far, okay? I’ve had enough heart attacks today for a whole lifetime.”

“Got it.” Oscar heads for the door, waving back at them, and is smiling when he steps out into the snow. Team RWBY is still by the airship, bundled around Penny and talking in low voices. Yang looks worried, Blake conflicted—Weiss is frowning out at the horizon, and then down at her sword, as though lost in thought. Ruby is by her side, a hand on her shoulder; she keeps glancing at the horizon too. 

When they see him walk out, their conversation stalls. Yang waves at him, and Ruby offers a smile, but no one seems up for the task of actually starting a conversation. 

No one except Penny, that is, who skips forward a step and waves her hand, a sharp hello. Brightly, and only somewhat subdued, she says, “Salutations! It is wonderful to see you again!”

Oscar ducks his head. “Um, same here!” He copies her wave, and Penny’s smile brightens. “I wish it was under better circumstances…”

“Oh, yes!” Penny’s smile flickers, then strengthens. “Circumstances… could be better! But still.” She gentles. “The others seemed very worried about you—I am happy to hear you’re all right!”

“O-oh.” Oscar smiles at her, and valiantly ignores the sudden flush to his face. The more he hears about how panicked everyone was, the more confused he gets on whether he should feel guilty or pleased that they care so much. Which, obviously he _knows_ they care, he’s never doubted it, but—

_Oscar, focus._

—he’s losing track of thought. Conversation, right. “Thank you?”

Penny beams at him. Then her eyes draw away, attention caught by the wind, and she is briefly and intensely focused on the distant, snow-swept horizon. Team RWBY goes quiet. Oscar does too, watching intently. He gets the sense this is something important. 

_I wonder…_ Oz sounds suspicious. _Could she have…?_

Penny slumps, all at once, and Oscar’s attention focuses back on her. She straightens with a pale smile. “Sorry, false alarm. Still… still clear!”

Oscar steps in closer to their circle, looking out to the horizon too. “What’s wrong? What were you looking for?”

More glances. Blake sighs. “Penny is…”

“It’s General Ironwood,” Weiss says, one hand settling on her hip. She’s frowning slightly at the snow. “He… Penny is—the Winter Maiden, now.” Oscar bites back a reaction, the jolt of Oz’s surprise buzzing through his head like a minor electric shock. “But Ironwood wanted it to be Winter.”

Blake takes over again. “We’re worried he might follow her,” she confesses, and lays a comforting hand on Penny’s shoulder when the girl shrinks in on herself. “Winter didn’t become the Maiden, so, if Ironwood wants to raise Atlas…”

In their twin shock, Oz bleeds through; as one, they breathe, “He still needs the Maiden.” It all makes sense now—why Ironwood is searching for their group personally, why the focus is on them instead of the Grimm and Salem. They’d known he was waiting for Winter, known he’d wanted the Staff— but they hadn’t known that Winter had failed to succeed the power. If Penny is the new Maiden—if Penny is _here—_

Their train of thought cuts off at Yang’s sharp look. “Oz?” she says, suspicious.

For a moment they are off-balance—there had been no switching of control, but rather a sharing of it, and the tug of war unsteadies them—and then Oscar blinks, back to the forefront, and gives her a considering look. “Oh,” he says. “How’d you tell?”

Yang presses her lips. “Voice,” she says, surveying him. “And… posture, too.” She gestures to her shoulders. “Oz is—tense. You’re more relaxed. You…” She stops, as if coming to a realization, and her lips abruptly thin. She pushes onward. “…carry yourself taller, I guess."

Blake shakes her head. “Wait, did you—Oz…?”

“Both of us, I guess?” Oscar hedges. He shakes his head. “We just realized—” He turns to Penny. “If you’re here, if Ironwood can’t get the Staff yet…” He smiles. “He hasn’t abandoned Mantle yet—he _can’t._ We still have a chance.”

Weiss straightens. “That’s… that’s a good point.” 

“But he’ll also definitely be looking for Penny,” Yang says, grimly. Penny frowns down at the snow, and after exchanging an awkward glance with Blake, Yang reaches up and taps her shoulder. “Hey. You did good. And we’re here, now. If he comes, we’ll beat his ass.”

“Together,” Blake adds, twining her hand with Yang’s. The two share a smile, cheeks turning red, and beside them Weiss and Ruby share a look and roll their eyes as one. 

_Young love,_ Oz says dryly, and Oscar smothers a grin, turning to nudge Penny with his elbow. She still looks down. “That said… are you okay? The power of a Maiden can be—” He stops, losing track of the memories that aren’t his own, and Oz briefly takes over to finish with, “difficult… to handle.”

“Oh! Yes. I am fine.” Penny gives a bright smile. “I am just… having some personal feelings. I haven’t figured them all out quite yet. There are—” She fumbles momentarily. “A… lot.”

Ruby places a hand on Penny’s shoulder. Penny leans into the touch. 

“Still, that’s a good point.” Weiss settles against the airship. “From what we’ve seen with Cinder, that amount of power can be a lot to handle.”

Oz feels… unsettled. Oscar turns his attention inward. He already gets an idea of what Oz wants to do—and waits to see what he decides. He can’t push this. He doesn’t want to push it. 

Oz notices, of course. _You do not have to look out for me, Oscar._

Maybe. But then—Oz isn’t the only one who wants things to go well. 

_…Still._ A sigh echoes through their soul. _I’m sorry to keep snatching control from you—_

Oscar is already stepping back. He hasn’t the words for it—how it doesn’t _feel_ like giving up control, at the moment, so much as stepping aside. He’s noticed, too, the changes—the shared control, the odd moments of synchronism. It’s not like they are any less _them,_ for there is still a distinct sense of Oz and Oscar… but the distance is muted, now. Less Oz and Oscar, and more Oz-and-Oscar, in some measure of harmony. 

There’s no real way to put this into words, though—so Oscar simply focuses on that feeling of _no-problem-don’t-worry,_ and Oz exhales a sigh when he opens their eyes.

“It can be,” he says, at ease, and valiantly ignores the way all eyes snap onto them. Oscar would roll his own, if he could. Oz probably isn’t trying to be dramatic, but it certainly _feels_ it. “But, if you would be willing, Miss Polendina, I might be able to help.”

Penny blinks at them, momentarily confused, and then her eyes widen in understanding. “You are… Professor Ozpin?”

“Yes.” Oz hesitates. “Did Ja—did the General explain to you who I am?”

“He did.” Penny considers him. “You are… the wizard from the story. An ancient warrior.”

“A fairly accurate description.” Oz lifts a hand to their chest. “As that power you now wield was once my own—”

Penny tilts her head. “Oh,” she says. “Do you want it back?”

Oz momentarily stumbles. Oscar blinks. There is a sudden glare acutely fixed on their back, Weiss and Yang and Blake all giving him the evil eye, as if daring him to say yes. Ruby is still looking at Penny. 

“No,” Oz says, recovering neatly. “No, most certainly not. The power is yours, now, Miss Polendina, and I… I feel that is exactly where it should be. I am certain you will do great things with it—better than I could ever dream.” He smiles, thin. “But if you have need of guidance, I am… willing to help. In any way I can.” At this, he turns, and meets the eyes of team RWBY. “If that is acceptable…?”

Blake and Weiss look considering, but it is Yang who steps up, chin held high. “Help,” she repeats. “You want to help?”

Oz holds her gaze. The regret he feels is palpable—it is Yang, months ago, who demanded truth from him; it is Yang, too, who he looked in the eye and lied to when he promised to be open with them. “Yes,” Oz says. “I… in any way I can.”

“Um…” Their eyes draw back to Penny. She smiles, uncertainly, back at Oz. “I get the sense there is… a lot that I am missing about this! But. I would be happy to receive any instruction you have to give, Professor.” Her smile goes small. “I, too… want to help in any way I can, with all my power.” She looks down at her palms. “New _and_ old.”

Yang looks at Penny for a long moment, and the tension leaves her all at once. Blake squeezes her palm, and she looks over; turns back to Oz with her head high again. “All right,” she says. “Whatever. Help it is, I guess.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm.” She surveys Oz once. “You’re really lucky Oscar is more forgiving than me,” she says at last, critically, and then turns away. “I’m going inside. See if they’ve figured out a plan for where we’re going next.”

Weiss pushes up from the door. “Oh, I’ll come with you!”

Blake nods too. “Let’s get out of the cold. Penny, are you…?”

Penny looks at the horizon for a moment and sighs. Ruby squeezes her shoulder, oddly quiet. “…Yes, please.”

Oz watches them head back to the airship, and when Blake looks back, giving him a questioning look, he shakes their head. She nods back, her expression considering, and pushes Weiss ahead before the other girl can ask—and then it is just them, Oscar and Oz, standing out in the snow.

Oz closes their eyes, breathing deep. The cold bites at their lungs, but the fresh air is needed—in a way, it wakes them up. Oz slips away, content with his moment of silence, and Oscar opens his eyes with a shiver. 

He still doesn’t go inside. The cold is bracing, but it’s nice too—silent in a way he sort of needs, peaceful in a way he craves. The smooth, endless expanse of the tundra; the soft swirls of snow, rising and falling in gentle bursts, carried up by the wind. This far out, Atlas is a brilliant but distant star—the city beautiful and pristine, the damage from the Grimm hidden by the great expanse of wilderness surrounding it. He can hardly see Mantle at all. 

But there, too, in the distance—the dark storm clouds, rolling ever closer. Slow and steady. Oscar watches its approach with a slow sinking in his chest. Salem. 

“When do you think she’ll…?”

It takes Oz a moment to answer. _It is hard to say. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps by nightfall. Perhaps tomorrow._

Oscar keeps his eyes on the storm. “That seems… slow.”

 _It is by design._ Oz sounds weary. His presence is an awful mixture of fear and hatred and a low, persistent whisper of disgust. The weight of all of Salem’s horrors rise up, indistinct but weighty, heavy on their shared soul. Thousands of years of atrocities, of murder, of cruelty. A thousand years of her haunting their footsteps, creeping in like some slow disease, rotting away every attempt to stand against her. _She will give them time to notice her. Give them time to understand what is coming—the scale of her attack, the scope of her power. She will let the fear sink in. She will let their despair reach a fever pitch. And then she will sit back, and wait for the Grimm._

Awful, Oscar thinks. He curls his arms around himself, rocking back on his heels. There is an echo of pain, sudden and dull, throbbing up his side—his legs feel numb, disconnected, alight with fire. It is not from the bullet. It is not Oscar’s pain. It is a memory from a death ages past, and Oscar breathes through the echo, bracing them both. “Fear,” he whispers, tasting the word on his tongue. “That’s how she does it.”

 _It is an effective technique._ For all the words sound like praise, Oz says them low and bitter. _Fear divides. Fear drives people to do… terrible things._

“…you’re talking about Ironwood.”

_Perhaps. In a way. But I have begun to think… perhaps I am talking about myself, too. I am beginning to wonder how much of what I did was logic, and how much was simply… well._

Oscar doesn’t really know what to say to that. He doesn’t like the odd note in Oz’s voice, the bitter tang turned inward. He rolls back his shoulders and stands taller in the cold light of the winter sun, and deliberately turns their eyes away from the storm, and onto the still-blue sky. 

“Does it matter?” he asks, honestly curious. “Even if that’s true, you’re choosing differently now. Even though you’re still…” He’s not sure _afraid_ is the right word. Perhaps _wary._ Oz is wary, always, of others: of baring secrets, or information, or truths he’d rather keep under wraps. Even now, Oz can feel his hesitation with every word he speaks. But that says something too, Oscar thinks—because Oz is _still_ wary, still unsure… and he is trying, with everything he is, to not let that feeling control him. 

“I think it matters,” Oscar says, at last, “that you’re trying things differently, even if the circumstances haven’t changed.” Oz is quiet, and Oscar pauses, wondering if he’d pushed too far. He looks at his hands. “I’m afraid too,” he admits, quietly. “What happened to Ironwood was… frightening. I don’t ever want to see that again.” He curls his fingers. “But—doesn’t that make it even more crucial to stand together? To—confide in others?” He lifts his head. “So… so we can notice. So we can hold each other together. Keep one another in check.” 

Oz is still quiet. Oscar trails off. “…I’m not making sense, am I.”

There is a long pause.

 _On the contrary._ Oz is hushed. _That is, I think… a very sound idea indeed._

“O-oh.” Oscar sighs. “Good.”

They go quiet, again, and for a few minutes it is just Oscar and Oz and the screaming of the wind. The airship is burning cold against his back, even with his coat, and the cold is starting to nip at his face. But Oscar feels content, safe somehow in the empty expanse—it is not a quiet or peaceful place, but for a moment he lets himself stare out into the wildland and think of nothing, not of fears or of Salem or even of Ironwood. 

It’s selfish, maybe. There are so many things ahead. But Oscar is tired, and so is Oz, if in different ways, and for a moment it’s just—nice. To breathe. To have his only worry be about the cold, and the focus of his aura against it.

“Um… Oscar?”

Ruby.

There’s the slightest of knocks against the airship wall, catching his attention. Ruby slips out of the airship with a quick darting step, closing the door to Nora’s yell of “The wind, the wind! Keep it OUT!” She has her hood pulled up, and is fussing with her gloves, and when she meets Oscar’s eyes, she smiles. “It’s a little… uh, a lot, in there. Can I join you?”

“Sure.” He scoots over a bit. “It’s, um, really cold though…”

Ruby giggles at him. “I know. You have snow on your nose.”

“I do?” He does. Oscar rubs hard at his face. “Ah…”

“Fresh air is nice… but don’t freeze, okay?” She settles next to him on the wall. “Is your aura good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that?”

Ruby grins at him. Oscar sighs and looks down. “…Oz is handling it.”

“Oh!” Ruby says, and turns away to giggle more. It fades quickly, though. Her smile turns small and distant. She straightens back up, and her eyes turn to the same horizon. “What are you looking for?” 

He considers. “I don’t know.” Salem? Ironwood? Both? There is a looming sense of something coming, and he can’t seem to draw his eyes away. “I don’t think I’d see it even if there was anything… but it’s nice, to watch.”

“Mm.” Ruby watches the skyline too. She is oddly subdued, weary in a way that strangely reminds him of Oz. “…Are you okay, Oscar?”

“I’m fine.” He puts a hand to his side out of habit, and it barely twinges. “It barely even hurts anymore. Jaune helped.”

“That’s good! But… that’s not what I meant.”

Oscar blinks. “Oh?” Ruby doesn’t look at him. “…Oh.”

He looks away too, thinking. Oz is quiet, still; his presence, however, is comforting. Oscar lowers his head. “I don’t know,” he says, at last. “I feel like… I should be angry. Or—hurt? And I am, but mostly… I don’t know. I just feel sort of numb.” He studies his hands. “It’s far away,” Oscar says, at last. “I don’t—it was so fast. And I never thought Ironwood would… so when it happened, I—I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s really hit me yet. I don't know how to feel about it.”

Ruby leans back, her legs stretched out. She crosses her ankles and studies the imprint her boots have left in the snow. “I get that,” she says. “When—when Ironwood decided to declare martial law… when he was saying all those things about leaving Mantle— and then Salem— and e-everything started falling apart—” Her lips press. She swallows. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She nudges him with her elbow. “But, well. We made it! We’re here… and we’re all together again. That’s… that’s one good thing.” She takes a breath. “I… I wanted to ask, also…” She rubs at her hair, biting at the corner of her cheek. “I… wanted to say something, I guess? To Oz? If that’s okay?”

Oscar hums, considering; Oz says nothing, but his flinch is like a flickering of the soul. 

Ruby waves her hands. “I know, I _know,_ we all said we’d talk about it later—and um, he actually doesn't have to talk to me, if he doesn't want to—though, um, that just seems kind of like talking through _you,_ Oscar, and I didn’t want—”

She stops. Oscar is smiling at her. “What? What'd I say?"

"Nothing.” He can't put it into words, but something in what she’s said has struck him kindly. Like an echo of a different conversation— _You’re your own person._ He smiles up at her. “It's fine. I think?”

_Yes. It’s fine._

Good. Oscar closes his eyes, and when they open again they are flaring gold, and Oz pushes up against the airship to stand on his own, linking their hands behind their back. He shakes the lingering snow from their hair, and turns to Ruby with a careful nod. “Miss Rose.”

“Oh!” Ruby straightens. “Um—Professor.” She nods back, awkwardly—despite the situation, and the tension that runs through Oz like a livewire, that almost seems to get Oz to smile—a flash of amusement, warm and fond. “Hi?”

“Hello.” He tilts their head. “What is it that—that you wished to discuss?”

Ruby scuffs her feet in the snow. “Oh, I…” She takes a breath. “I actually wanted to apologize.”

Oz goes very still. For once, he seems taken entirely off-guard. “I…” He stops. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“Yeah, that probably didn’t make a lot of sense…” Ruby straightens. “I—I’m sorry. For… what happened with Jinn. I didn’t know, when I asked, that she would… _show_ us… all that. But that isn’t really an excuse. And… I think it really hurt you.” She looks away. “I didn’t say it at the time, I—I was too upset, but… I am sorry. I wanted the truth, but I never wanted it like that.” Oz is still silent. Ruby winces. “Oh, I’m saying this all wrong, aren’t I…”

Oz slowly unfreezes. He seems almost uncomfortable. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with the apology, or how to deal with it. The memory of that day in the snow almost seems to make him flinch. His emotions on it are tangled, even to Oscar: regret, grief, despair, and the lingering guilt beneath it all, that constant dread, because he _cannot_ trust them, not really, not truly, he cannot let them know the whole truth, the whole sordid tale, because once they know—

_Then what? What happens if they know the truth, Oz?_

But to that, Oz doesn’t seem to have an answer. 

“While I—appreciate the gesture,” Oz says, finally, carefully, only just barely catching himself from stumbling over the words, “you do not have to force yourself, Miss Rose. I know that I have done…” 

“No, no, I…”

_Oz—_

But Oz shakes their head before she can finish. “It is alright to be angry,” he says, to Ruby and Oscar both, and he says it simply, like it’s just yet another lesson. “And you do not have to apologize. The situation got to that point because of my choices; my insistence on keeping you all in the dark. You do not have to—”

“Still!” Ruby says, and stops, faltering, looking embarrassed for having interrupted —and then her expression firms. “Still. I’m sorry. And… and I’m not angry. Not really? After everything that’s happened, I’m just… I _am_ happy you’re back. I don’t think it’s a bad thing.” She hesitates. “But…” 

Their hands, linked behind their back, briefly tighten. 

“That said, I… I don't know if I can trust you anymore, Professor.” Ruby rubs at her face, looking for a moment so gut-wrenchingly tired it makes Oscar wince. “I want to! I do. But—” She slumps. “…yeah.”

Oz is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, he is hesitant. “That is—” He doesn’t seem to know what to say. “…Understandable.”

"But I want to,” Ruby repeats. She straightens a bit, a little more strength in her voice. “And you seem to be trying, so—I’ll try to.”

Oz is a stunned sort of silent. Oscar, for his part, is not surprised. Ruby has always been the most willing to listen. He’s relieved by it, in a way—it’s a great start!—but also, it makes him feel sort of tired, the fact Oz so very clearly did not expect the same. 

_You shouldn’t underestimate them, you know._

“I—” Oz stops. He does not seem to know what to say to that—to either of them. 

"Professor,” Ruby says. “I know—it sounds like you’ve been betrayed… a lot? Um. But.” She offers a weak smile. "You said once that you had faith in humanity. …Try to have some faith in us, too?”

“I…” Oz clears his throat. “Of—of course.” He hesitates, too. “I am… trying.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Ruby takes a breath and pushes away from the airship, nodding firmly. “Um. That's all I wanted to say, I guess. Yeah.” A pause. "I… really did miss you, Professor. It’s good to see you again."

When Oz smiles back, it is weary—but it is genuine, too. “And you as well, Miss Rose,” he says, and then he fades away from control. Oscar blinks, regaining his bearings. Oz is distant again, thin—he feels _exhausted—_ but some of the stress has faded, and so has some of the regret, the bitter tang, and when Oscar smiles at Ruby, his expression is bright.

Ruby smiles back, relaxing. “Thanks, Oscar.”

“You, too.” Oscar considers everything and laughs, quietly. “We’re all a mess, aren’t we?”

_Excuse me?_

“Well, we are.”

“It’s been a really long day,” Ruby agrees, grinning, and then looks into the horizon and sort of slumps. “And it’s only just started…”

“We’ll be okay.”

“We will! But wow. What a night.” She shakes her head. “Do you think—”

The airship door slams open; Oscar and Ruby both startle, Oz a flash of panic in Oscar’s mind. Weiss pokes her head out, face pale. “Get in,” she says, no-nonsense. “Ironwood’s found us.”

_Oh no._

Oscar inhales sharply, horrified, and races inside, Ruby on his heels. 

Weiss pulls them inside, quickly, and slams the airship door behind them. Everyone else is already clustered around the controls, talking over each other; Maria, in the pilot’s seat, is holding up a radio, her expression grim.

_“By the order of the General, you are to stand down and turn in Penny Polendina. We will use force if necessary. I repeat, by order of the General…”_

Oz’s voice snaps. _How far out are they?_

Oscar turns to Qrow, but the man is already answering. “They’ll be here in five minutes, tops,” he informs Ruby and Oscar, eyes bright with anger. “We just got the transmission. James spoke first.” He sneers the words. “The dear General came for us in _person._ ”

Oscar’s breath catches. There is a flash of dread in him like a lance, half-pain and half-horror. Oh, no. Beyond just leaving Mantle—Ironwood has left Atlas undefended too? All to chase the Maiden?

 _He has cut off all his allies. He has alienated all of you. It makes sense, in a twisted way. The General’s plan with the relic… by his own design, it has become his only option._ There is a bitter sort of irony in the words. _Though I doubt even that would save Atlas now. Salem would not invade if she did not have a way to reach the city._

“But what do we do?” Oscar asks, to the others and Oz both. He squashes the rising dread best he can. He knew Ironwood was coming for them. They all knew. He just—he’d really hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. “If he’s here—”

“He’s waiting for us to flee, I’ll bet,” Yang says with disgust. “Then they’ll follow. And they’ll have more fuel, so if it gets into a chase…”

“We’ll lose,” Ren agrees, grim.

“If we could distract them—” Ruby tries. 

“Sure, but how do we do that? We’re the only thing out here! The _only_ thing they’re interested in is us!”

To that, no one has a solution. 

Robyn is tapping at her own scroll, her eyes dark. “And we just got in contact with May,” she hisses, looking genuinely livid. “If we could have found her and the Huntresses sooner—gotten to Mantle—her semblance—” She slams a fist against the wall, too frustrated for words. 

Everyone else is talking, throwing ideas back and forth. Ruby beelines over to Penny, comforting her, talking lowly. Oscar stares down at the ground, his mind whirling. He turns to look out the window. He can’t see the ships. He can’t see Ironwood. What he does see—

The second airship. The one Oz stole for them.

An idea begins to form in his mind. Oscar bites his lip. Oz is like a crackle of static in his ears, his caution a near physical sensation, a pulling back. _Oscar. Are you sure?_

“I think it could work,” Oscar whispers back. 

_But can you do it? It has been—it hasn’t even been a day. And we are—_

“Out of options.”

_Still—_

“What are you thinking?”

Jaune. Oscar turns to him. “I have an idea,” he admits. “The—the start of one? But…”

Jaune considers him. “Tell me,” he says, and listens. Then he nods. “You’re kind of making a face. Oz doesn’t like it?”

“…No.”

“I—I don’t know if I like it, either. Too risky. But…” Jaune is frowning. He turns to the rest of the airship. “Guys! Stop talking for a minute. Oscar has an idea…” Jaune glances back. “And I think I might have a plan.”

He explains it in simple terms, draws in the others. Weiss says, “I think I could handle that.” Ruby says, “Well, I’ve made longer jumps before…” Even Penny, new to it all, holds out one hand and concentrates, green fire flickering around her eyes. The temperature drops. “I think I could try,” she says, slowly, when the attention shifts to her. “But…” She glances at Oscar, hesitating.

Qrow frowns at him. “Are you sure you can handle that, kid? I mean…” He trails off. The silence stretches. In the background, the lady’s voice crackles over the speaker again: _“…stand down and turn in Penny Polendina. We will use force…”_

“I won’t lie,” Oscar admits, stuttering a little on the words. He looks down. “I… don’t really want to. But. I also know it will work.” He looks up, judging their expressions, and shrugs. “Besides. I…” He lifts a hand to his chest, hesitating. “I won’t be alone.” 

Right?

_No. You won’t be alone. I promise._

“I won’t be alone,” Oscar repeats, surer this time. He smiles. “So it’s okay.” 

Glances are exchanged across the deck; Yang is the first to shrug. “Well. Can’t argue with that one.” She looks at Oscar, considering. “We’ll be with you, too. The first sign of trouble—”

“I know.”

“I don’t like it,” Nora insists. 

_I concur._

“Still…”

“Well, it’s not like any of us have got a brighter idea!” Maria announces, loudly, to which no-one can truly come up with a counter-argument—and that, apparently, is that. 

Five minutes later, as Ironwood’s airships finally circle into view through the snow, Oscar picks up the receiver and prepares himself. Ruby stands behind him, silent support; she bounces half-way restless on her heels, her expression focused and determined. They watch together as Ironwood’s ships come into range, headlights focusing on the airship. 

Oscar adjusts his grip on the receiver, his fingers numb through the gloves. In his other hand, he holds the Long Memory like a lifeline. Ruby’s hand is tight on his shoulder. The airship doors are open—the wind, freezing cold, feels as if it’s blowing right through him. The airship is hovering a good ten feet off the ground, held steady and still by Oscar’s hand.

 _Be ready,_ Oz cautions. _But stay calm. And… I am here, if you find you need the help._

“I know,” Oscar murmurs. “Thanks.” He glances at Ruby, who shakes her head and holds up three fingers, looking at her scroll. Oscar nods. He turns away, takes a breath, and clicks on the receiver.

“ _…turn in Penny Polen—”_

“Hi,” Oscar says. Ruby squeezes his shoulder. Oz is a cautioning presence. _Stay steady._ Oscar adjusts his grip on the cane. “Is the General there?”

There is a long pause. Static crackles over the speaker. Then a quiet click, and General Ironwood’s voice, run ragged and thin, echoes through the airship. “ _Who is this?”_

Oscar goes quiet. His hand trembles, and then tightens. He is struck with a sudden silence. His lips press. His breath is held, shaky, in his chest. His fingers grip the Long Memory tight. 

_“I said, who is this?”_

When Oscar finally speaks, he doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t even sound tired. He says the words the same way he said them the first time around. “Sorry,” Oscar says, and feels very cold. “But it’s still just me.”

A stunned sort of silence. _“Oscar.”_

“Hi, General.”

_“You— you’re—”_

“You got very close,” Oscar admits. “It’s—it’s almost kind of funny, in a way? Or. Ironic, I guess. You finally got what you wanted.”

 _“I don’t know what you’re talking—!”_ Ironwood cuts himself off. “ _No. No, it doesn’t matter. Stand down, all of you. This is your final warning.”_

Oz leans in; Oscar exhales. “No,” they say. “No, General. I don’t think we will.”

 _“You—”_ But something must bleed through, because then Ironwood stumbles. His breath catches. _“O-Oz? Is… is that you? You came back?”_

“Well. Nothing like a murder to bring me to my senses.” Oz is ice cold. Oscar adds, “But that doesn’t really matter right now.”

_“Wait—”_

“We aren’t standing down, General.” Oz takes the airship controls, bringing them up, and the ship rises higher in the air, hovering. Fifteen feet. Twenty feet. Twenty-five. He keeps them steady in flight, even as the opposing airships train their weapons upon it. “And we are not giving you Penny Polendina.” 

“ _Even you.”_ Ironwood sounds dull. His voice shakes. _“Oz, I am trying to do the right thing!”_

“Oscar gave you his answer.” In the reflection of the windshield, their eyes burn gold. “And thus, so have I.”

_“Stand down.”_

Oscar and Oz smile. It isn’t a happy smile. In a way, it is almost sad. “No.”

Ruby shakes their shoulder, lightly. She holds up her scroll. Blake’s message is short and to the point: _In position. W & P are ready to go. _There is no more time to waste. There is not even a reason to waste it. Ironwood is not listening. He stopped listening the moment he drew the gun, or maybe even before then. 

_“I have you surrounded,”_ Ironwood says. He sounds grim. He sounds regretful. It will not stop him from shooting them. _“If I must, I_ **_will_ ** _give the order to attack. This is your last chance, Oz.”_

“And this was yours.” They straighten, fingers clenched tight on the controls. Ruby’s grip seizes at their shoulder, ready, waiting. “Goodbye, General.” 

They let go. 

Three things happen at once. 

Ruby drags them back and activates her semblance, throwing them out the open airship door. A wall of ice and earth bursts up in front of their ship, summoned by a combination of Weiss’s dust and Penny’s new magic. And in the flurry of mist and confusion, the twist of Ruby’s semblance blurs them away from the falling airship, through the narrow pass and to the backside of the cliffs—crashing into the open doors of the second airship, ready and waiting and hidden from view, utterly ignored in the chaos of Oz and Oscar’s distraction.

Jaune slams the doors closed as soon as Ruby crashes inside, and the airship lurches hard as Maria at once sends it into a steep climb. Ruby falls to the ground, coughing; Oscar falls back, and tries in vain to catch his breath. Oz grits out, “Hurry—”

In the distance, explosions. The ship Ruby and Oscar had been on hits the tundra with a blur of fire. Men have started unloading from Ironwood’s ship. He hasn’t noticed their trick just yet. They are climbing into the clouds. Oscar holds his breath, hoping against hope. Please let it have been enough. Please let them have distracted him enough—

Maria cackles, sudden and sharp. All heads snap to her. “Out of range! Take _that,_ Atlas military sensors!”

_…I cannot believe that actually worked._

Everyone collapses, puppets with cut string. Oz retreats, utterly drained. Oscar collapses the Long Memory in his hands, hooks it back to his belt, then thumps his head down on the airship floor and groans. “That was… too close.”

_In theory it was a sound idea. In practice…_

“That was—” Weiss shakes her head, looking a little pale. “Okay. Next time? Different plan.”

Oscar lifts a hand. “Agreed.”

“I think that was pretty great, honestly,” Jaune says, and when everyone stares at him, huffs. “It worked! It was stressful trying to sneak an airship behind a mountain without Ironwood noticing, sure, and the timing was wonky, but hey! We’re in one piece! C’mon, guys!”

Ren shakes his head. Ruby giggles. Oz gives a soundless sigh in the back of Oscar’s mind.

Ruby climbs to her feet with a sigh, and Oscar accepts her hand up gratefully. She smiles at him. “You okay?” Then she pauses. “Um, you… _both_ okay? That was…”

“I…” Oscar considers. “I think… I think I am. I needed to do that. And—I think—it finally let it all sink in.” Oz is in silent agreement. “We know what we have to do,” Oscar says, and exhales, slow and sure. “And… I think we’ll be okay.”

Ruby squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m glad.” 

“Mm. …I want to sleep forever, though.”

Ruby laughs at that. 

Maria taps her cane hard; conversation stalls, attention back on her. “We’ve evaded Ironwood for now, but he’ll be back, make no mistake,” she informs them. “To say nothing of Salem. Get some rest while you can.”

“We’ll be in Mantle by the hour,” Robyn says, taking over. “We’ll meet up with the Happy Huntresses first, get more fuel. Then…” She glances at the sky, the storm. “We figure out what to do next.”

A solemn quiet takes the ship. Ruby pats at Oscar’s shoulder and goes to sit with Penny as the others find places to rest. Jaune leans against the wall, Yang and Blake sitting together behind the pilot seats. Oscar heads for the back, by team JNR, and settles in the offered seat next to Nora. She slings an arm around his shoulders, and Oscar leans against her gratefully, using her arm as a pillow. Conversation in the airship has gone hushed. Oscar closes his eyes.

_You did very well._

“I don’t feel like I did anything.”

Nora shifts, and he peaks open an eye. She smiles and shakes her head, turning away, pretending ignorance. 

_You did more than you know._

Oscar closes his eyes again, humming under his breath. “If you say so.” 

_I am glad it worked, despite my original reservations._ A pause. _You children have all grown admirably. Where we… where_ **_I_ ** _faltered… you have only become stronger._

Oscar smiles. “Told you.”

_…So you did._

“Mm.” Oscar looks out over their group, bickering, relieved, warm. He takes a breath, and closes his eyes. “We did it,” he says, under his breath. “We did it.”

 **_You_ ** _did it._ There is a thread of pride in Oz’s voice. _I… meant what I said before, Oscar. I am sorry I left for so long. Whatever comes next— you were never facing it alone, I suppose, but this time I will face it with you. If—that is all right?_

“It is.” Oscar opens his eyes. He looks out over the airship. He is suddenly and intensely grateful for them—for his team, for the others, for listening and seeing him and everything else. The dull ache of Ironwood’s betrayal has faded. The future looms over their heads. It is harder, now. It is going to be so much harder. Saving Mantle has become a trial unlike anything they’ve ever faced. 

But they are still trying. And in the end, Oscar thinks, that has to count for something. 

He smiles and closes his eyes. He is ready, he thinks. He is ready to face the storm. 

_Thank you, Oscar._

They both are.

**Author's Note:**

> The best part of writing this fic was the changed dynamic. Is Oz still the old professor who likes teaching and gives advice at the drop of a hat? Yeah. But he's absolutely lost all of his former respect and status as a leader to the team, which, funnily enough, actually makes him more a part of it. It was so fun to explore, ahaha. 
> 
> I had an idea in mind when writing this fic, more than I did for the others. Fear and trust were big themes this volume, and for Oz and Oscar especially, I wanted to show where they were similar and where they contrast. Part of Oz's struggle is that I don't think he ever fully saw the others as fighting Salem with him. Not in a bad way, but in that if everything goes wrong, he is the only one who ever survives. He is the only left standing. (But that doesn't mean he was standing alone. By the nature of his reincarnation, he _can't._ And he shouldn't.)
> 
> I also really wanted to write an Ironwood confrontation. I'll probably write another fic with a longer one, when they're more face-to-face, but in this conversation of fear/trust/standing alone, Ironwood had to be included. Because he's the one who pulled away, and unlearned all those lessons in the process.
> 
> ANYWAYS, there's my character study.
> 
> [If you wanna rec this fic, you can reblog it here!!](https://izaswritings.tumblr.com/post/190952809172/title-facing-fear-fandom-rwby-synopsis-oscar) Also, if you have any questions or just want to talk, [my tumblr](http://izaswritings.tumblr.com) is always open!!
> 
> Any thoughts??


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